Brooklynese

I have been forced to live my life like an archer's paradox
Aiming to the side, let the wind carry me away
And with haste to the target I chase
Sometimes I ponder whether the weather is making decisions for me
Based on places I walk or if I take transportation of wheeled machines.
Constantly having my parade rained on daily.
Constantly having to play nice verbally, when all I do is be blunt
With specific and accurate trajectory.
Never causing havoc, yet receiving mad static
Treated like a heretic when I raise my voice and speak
Brooklyn English; never broken or tragic
Never harsh to my ears, but makes others apprehensive.
Makes them fear me, makes them intimidated
And I don't know why people gotta lie and force me to
Censor and neuter myself vocally.
Yo...that's just not me.
If you don't like my reasoning and vocalization
About past, present, and future contemplations
And divisions, fears and apprehensions;
My formal and informal opinions
About your potentially flawed decisions
Then I can call truces, and secede with emotional cessation
From this state, this organization
And perhaps fly off to some other constellation
Where my Brooklynese is appreciated and understood
And wholly viewed as truth with no filter
Where one word from me won't put people off-kilter
Won't have them scatter like roaches when my voice approaches
Their eardrums; leaving them partially deaf and numb
Stuttering, sobbing, ears throbbing from bleeding embolisms...
Sorry I'm blunt; would rather be up front
Then talk about your issues later with some stranger, talking junk
And regretting our conversation; wishing my Brooklynese would've
Sorted out our confused relations.

Author's Note

Keep it 100 please...

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

ah that Brooklynese....i had the Bronxese when moved to illinois as a kid, and was teased mercilessly for my accent...

i like the poem a lot...and really like dana's comment too...

we do have that reputation as New Yorkers...a bit crass, and usually wanting something...so many from NY move other places and still have that mentality..."what do you want from me?"

j.

[h d e rushin]

I can relate but not as a person who has been to Brooklyn. So what's the relation then dana?
"If you don't like how loud i'm talking, your standing too close to me...lol"
I sat in a New York airport terminal waiting on a cancelled flight, when I was approached
by a woman who handed me a book . Well, I like books. So I gladly accepted it. But it was
just a book with oft-colored illustrations and with words or captions I didn't understand.
So I gave the book back to her but what she wanted was a donation, not the return of the book.
This is my indoctrination to New Yorkness. That was 12 years ago and i'm still confused.

I love this poem; the possibilities that it suggests. Hearing is only hearing when the
words come forth as medicine. Heal me. Take me higher. Make me better. Allow some
impossible understanding. just don't say it too loud......great poem....dana

[Blotted Ink Productions]

I appreciate the comments! Not all of us are rude, we're just stuck in our ways of speaking and want to be understood lol